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RPlog:Thumbs
In recent weeks the Interrogation chambers of the /Inquisitor/ have been covered in their fair share of blood and gore, but the pristine finish on the walls and floor show that careful measures are taken to clean up after whatever Korynn cooks up for the unlucky guest in these rooms. Like always, the room is left for the prisoners at first to let them cool off and talk amongst themselves as cameras carefully watch and record their activity. The ISB and Inquisition takes great pains to see to every detail of interrogation, leaving their prisoners in a constant state of weakness sometimes chained to the walls hanging or simply bound, in this case the Sith preferred hanging their prisoners from the wall. Axel Vichten was the first of the group to be ushered off not to return for a time as the doors of the chambers open to bring in a very special figure. The room seems to darken with shadow as the presence of the notorious Darth Malign enters flanked by a honor guard of four black armored soldiers, droids. The Sith was wearing his normal spacer garb but had a black cloak draped over, hanging down around his shoulders heavily as he examines the room carefully. His hazel eyes shimmer with a bit of humor in the dim light as he lets silence fill the place where is introduction should be, his reputation would speak enough words. A small table of "tools" are brought in and placed just off to the side, a few dozen neatly placed objects designed for cutting and pain. His features darken and his aura speaks his intent, joy through the delivery of pain. Eson from the wall somewhat limply, though the muscles of his legs and shoulders do work to keep him supported somewhat. The position is uncomfortable and after a few hours the slow burn of exhaustion crept in. Still, Eson held his posture, likely working against himself; for a tired body is more suseptible to the implimentations of would-be tormetors. The crimson skin of the crimelord is a baked reality from years under the never setting sun of Ryloth, and that skin is pock marked with scars of many shapes and sizes. A down cast gaze is laid on the entering figure. It was Darth Malign, and there could be little doubt. If Eson was blindfolded he would have recognized the dark pall that entered the room before the figure himself. Narrowed eyes greet the Human who has caused so much difficulty for the Maffi crime Family in recent weeks. Only one word is uttered from the crimson crimelord's parched lips.. "Twi'janii.." This was not exactly what Jingle had hoped for in his first job. Hanging by his arms in a cold room for hours, only having the great Tyy'sun Eson next to him gave him any comfort. By comfort he of course meant that it would be likely that he would be killed or humiliated if he gave any information in his presence. The new man to walk into the room had to make him grin to himself. He appeared full of self-importance like so many of these high-up Imperials. OF course Jingle didn't know the power behind him, but that never stopped him being beligerant in the past. For now he hung limply watching the movements of the man and the tools he brought out, as well as Tyy'sun's reactions. The prisoners were an interesting breed not many nonhumans were rounded up in the plots that happen on Corellia, but it was clear that the finger prints of corruption were all over the Corellian Security Forces and government, in a lot of ways they still were. Malign casually moves to the small table of tools and begins to pick through them with gloved hands, "They say there was an altercation in the Starport." He says idly holding a jagged blade up into the light and then flipping a small switch on it as it began to hum, no doubt a vibro-styled tool. He deactivates it and places it on the try and turns back to the prisoners, "It seems there was a job done for an Axel Victhen, and that the deal went sour and a slicer didn't complete his part of a bargain. Perhaps because this slicer was bullied by an organization and criminal front that I had made peaceful arrangements with to leave Imperial space, for the time being. Yet here is their leader hanging from my cell walls, having involved himself in such minor matters and attempting to flex muscle he does not have within Imperial space." The Sith's words were full of venom his voice was halting and stern as he went over a few things, from his point of view, "And then you bring in titles and phrases that are suppose to sway me, yet you do not understand what sways the Sith." Malign shakes his head gesturing toward a nearby seat as it skids across the floor and he takes it in hand and sits down throwing his heavy cloak from his body as it drapes over the chair behind him. "Eson, you have a lot of explaining to do, to me, and to the Empire. Tell me why I shouldn't sign the orders to execute you and your friend, or why I shouldn't allow Korynn and the Imperial Security Bureau to do what they are best at." Malign pulls a smoke from his pocket and lights it taking a drag and exhaling slowly. If Eson could shrug he would, but the chains and the position he hangs in make the gesture somewhat silly to behold. The crimelord swallows the fear in his gut, and allow it to sing ddeply into his synapses. He suspects Malign will sense fear as well as a ebast sees the color of blood. Certainly the crimelord is afraid, but he has always been afraid, at heart, and mind, in one form or another. The imagination is large, and hanging on the wall has conjured images of some masked tormentor rushing through the doors bearing syringes and scalples.. Now that Malign is here and talking, it gives the crimelord a moment of contemplation. He is willing indeed to speak. "I know not why you are not swayed, Malign.. the Family has bent over backwards to do your bidding, and bring you the underworld power and leverage you desires against the New Republic durring your return. Has invited you into its court to dine, as a brother of Zhao, and honored you with all you have asked for. Yet the knife in our backs stings in the face of your promises of Imperial leniency and cohabitations. You were treated well, and in return, the Family has suffered.. and yet we hold true to our words. Twila is free, and the entire Family illicit operations has been withdrawn from the Imperial whole. Unfortuante, for the scourge rusing to take our place is surely undisciplined rabble whom you will find difficult to control." Ever since Tyy'sun's appearance the previous day, Jingle got the feeling that there was a lot going on that he didn't fully understand or wasn't fully informed about. Ruefully he thought that the less he knew now the less he would be inclined to say when that nasty little tool Malign, as Eson had called him, decided to fondle bit into him. Jingle went to oppose the man's opinion of the situation and his involvement, but thought better of it, and merely hung silently, as was his place at the moment. He didn't particularly enjoy the thought of it being his turn to speak... The Sith lets Tyy'sun speak about his 'family' and he shrugs, "If I betrayed the family or desired to betray your organization, Eson, I would have not 'asked' it to leave my systems. Instead I would have crushed it into a fine paste, burned the remains, and sprinkled the ashes into the maw cluster." The Imperial shrugs, "The Zhao and Maffi have no use to my plans in Imperial space running and operating on Corellia made your sharpened edge blunt and complacent and that has no value to the Sith." Malign smirks and runs his fingers through his hair, "I believe as a punishment to your lieutenants that go against your will, you remove one of their fingers?" he perks a brow and smiles. "By failing to execute or show results in Republic space and failing to even move into operations on Ord Mantell until your exile from Corellia that would be one mistake, your second would have been returning to Corellia, your third would have been crossing my agents on Ord Mantell, and your fourth would be crossing my agent Axel Vichten, with this ship ordeal." Malign frowns looking down at the table, "Unfortunately Sith do not take fingers we take limbs." His presence darknes as he steps toward the table, but instead side steps it pressing a call button, "Bring Axel Vichten, back into the interrogation chambers." He says darkly stepping back away to face his prisoners, "No legs, no arms, that would make it difficult for you to be a crime lord I would suppose and expensive to replace. I suppose your friend." Malign gestures to Jingle, "could carry you in a harness on his back." The First lesson of the Sith is brutality. Escorted by a pair of detention guards, Axel enters the interrogation room. For someone in Imperial custody, he has an odd air about him. A sly smile is on his face as he sees that not only are his fellow captives present, but Darth Malign is here as well, likely running the interrogation himself. "Good Evening, gentlemen," he says in a cocky tone of voice. If Eson was able to swallow his fear before he is not so unsentient as to swallow it now, that would require the spinal system of a droid. The fear washes over the crimelord like a storm hovering over a city, and crimson lips purse. Anger washes in with that fear, mixing, mingling, and with it the darkside. Fear and Hatred always seem to call that dark force - but it will do Eson little good now, and it does not come bidden, it just comes. "Perhaps.." Eson spits, "You will allow me to address your complaint before exacting your punishment, Dark Malign.." the words roll off the tongue like marbles down a pipe. "I all but delivered the underground structure of the New Republic Base and softened the entire belly of the Abyssal Ruins durring your chaos on Coruscant. I have put into operations your agents have chartered regarding Military operations on Nak Shimor.. I have secured not only a healthy market and powerbase on Ord Mantel, but secured government positions and political power.. You "agents" as you call them, Axel Vichten, and whomever you speak of on Ord Mantell I can only surmise is Bey, the owner of Lashers, a man making deals to sell out the Family.. something I cannot abide. Even now new Lashers is being erected. I am the one you would do well to employ, Malign - even Axel came to me for help on th eslicing gig, and Maffi will control Ord Mantel far superior to ... Bey.. and yet you believe we only oeprate on Corellia? We may have an office here, but we are.. everywhere." Star Destroyers are places of order. The 40,000 souls aboard this one are no different. When things are not in order they attract the attention of those attuned to such things. It is thus that the Grand Inquisitor himself is drawn to the Interrogation Wing of the detention level. He moves aboard the Inquisitor without any guards or retinue. The presence of Malign was also out of place, but not totally unexpected. He steps out of the turbolift, hands clasped to the small of his back as he walks through the security station and into the darkened corridors that isolate this wing from the rest of the ships main detention facility. No one said Malign wasn't a reasonable businessman, unless he was angered. He takes another drag from his smoke and exhales a light sigh, he was far from angry, more like amused. The Sith were always underestimated in this galaxy, thought to be little more than a shadow which people could hide in or invoke should they need to threaten someone. To deal with the Sith was to deal with their thought processes, to deal in their culture, the problem was few understood Sith culture. Tyy'sun makes a valiant appeal to save his limbs from the same fate, on a smaller level; he had subjected his own minions too. The Sith was blunt, "How does a Sith measure the worth of his agents?" naturally it was a rhetorical question, "Simple, if I need you at the moment you are of value, if you can find a use for yourself, and if you make sure never to cross my path, and I need a wide berth to move my influence. I never thought it was difficult to see where my interest are, I never make any attempts to hide my motivations, not even from the Republic, because there is nothing I fear in this galaxy except my Master." Malign gestures for Axel to come closer. "However, Eson, in addition to my Emperor, my Master there are a few things you need to fear. Crossing me, crossing the Grand Inquisitor Korolov, crossing the Empire, my agents say the only words you have for me when I am not present are very unflattering. Tell my Tyy'sun, do you believe you have been treated unfairly?" he perks a brow; he was baiting for an angered and emotional response. Tyy'sun's emotions were bleeding all over the floor as far as Malign's perception was and he was pouring them into his chalice and drinking freely of them, "Dealing with the Sith is not a light task, and it requires more than give and take. Didn't you sense that before we made our agreements? Didn't you /feel/ the influence the Sith would have in the galaxy and within your very organization?" Malign gestures to a sharp cutting tool on the table and it floats to him, a massive cleaver designed for one purposes. The Sith hands the weapon to Axel and smiles, "This man has wronged you, and we follow his laws for the time being. Feel free to exact your revenge. You wanted to understand our way, you wanted to see the truth." He pauses looking at Tyy'sun, "Both of you are interested, that I can feel for certain, so now you both will learn a very clear and valuable lesson about the Sith." He steps back his own senses picking up on Korolov's arrival into the room, an interesting addition for a lesson in brutality. The two Sith had never seen quite eye to eye but with Vadim on their leashes and tugging them ever so slightly back from each other's throat some accommodation was required and given. It seems that Axel had arrived just in time to hear Tyy'sun's complaints about him. He stifles a small laugh but remains quiet for the moment. After all, it was not his job to conduct the interrogation. He would leave that to the professionals. Besides, Ax's techniques involved mass amounts of spice, which at the moment, he did not have in his possession. To hear mention though, of Bey being an agent of Darth Malign, that had brought a few thoughts to his mind. After all, Bey (or Malif as he now knows the man), had been his house guest for a little over a week now. As the lift block doors open, and Korolov emerges, Axel tenses a bit. One sith, he could deal with being in the room with. After all, Tyler was considered by the man to be a colleague of sorts. Not really an ally or a friend, but a professional business aquaintance, and Axel looked up to the man. Korolov, on the other hand was not on Axel's list of associates, making him an unknown in the equation, and unknown factors made things a bit hectic, even for Axel. As Malign makes his gesture, Axel diverts his attention back to him and away from the Grand Inquisitor. With a slight look of distaste, Axel takes the cleaver from the Sith. "I want to learn the ways," he says looking over the instrument and then to the crimson Twi'lek. "I just didn't realize they were so messy." A twisted grin crosses his face as he turns to Tyy'sun, blade in his right hand. "You took a dear friend of mine's finger. You burned down his club, and inside two cases of very expensive and rare vintage wine. What do you think I should do for that alone?" He pauses a moment, taking a deep breath in. "Then there is the matter of the ship I fought to aquire on Corellia. Had you just taken the money and let business be business, then none of this would come about. I think your Lekku would be appropriate. Shall it be your left or your right, Eson? Maybe I'll take both, and then the extra your freakish slicer has." Axel had no idea if the Lekku was a viable choice without killing a person. All he knew is that they were a symbol of pride for the Twi'lek, and pride was something he would enjoy stripping away. As Inquisitor Korolov enters the room, Eson frowns. His sentiments echo Axel's to some degree, though unknowingly to the crimson crimlord. He was aware of the man, and who he is, but was hardly aqauinted. Most of Eson's dealing with the Imperials were through Danik Kreldin - as that individual had ties in Black Sun Syndictate, a Syndicate Eson himself rose to the top of and ruled for a short time, before being betrayed by them as well. These imperials are a far more sinister sort than Kreldin.. they are brutal, cunning, and viscious, much like Eson is in the underworld - but even Eson has scruples. Eson and the Maffi work on a fine pretense of honor and integrity - the crime family is known for keeping its word even if it means suicide. If they did not, the ruling council would kill them anyways for disgracing themselves and the Family. In Eson's experience, the Sith do not have scruples.. and Tyler pretty well explained as much. As for Axel.. when the man brandishes the cleaver, Eson's eyes burrow into the Human like daggers into a soft fruit. Gone is the fear, for in this man Eson is dealing with his element - and Eson never fears his element. "If you would killing for protecting the Family, Axel Vichten, then you are no wealthy eccentric, you are a spice addled lunatic and little else. I once respected you, becuase you mad eit clear your intentions, and you followed through with the.. Your hatred for the Empire, and the New Republic and your love of the CDU was placed like a steaming meal on my table, and you partook of that meal as a man with integrity. But the moment you began to deal with the Sith, your integrity melted away easily enough. I hold no ill will against you, but that which you place before me in the form of your disrespect. If you slice my lek I shall die from the wound, but it will not be your triumph, or your punishment.. it will be your disgrace." "The honorable thief. There is no greater lie that those who commit foul deeds and try and wrap it in a flag of honor and integrity. I have seen more honor spilled on a thousand worlds than any pathetic criminal could ever hope to posses." gloved hands fold across the robed chest of the Grand Inquisitor. The cowl of his cloak has been pushed back, revealing the bone white mask that he has chosen to wear. His voice is modulated to sound completely unhuman behind it as his presence seems to fill the room around him. His lips curl into a slight grin as he continues, "Do not even dare to mutter such words aboard this vessel, Twi'lek. I will not tolerate it." With the addition of Axel and this more menacing man to the room, Jingle was starting to become very nervous. Tyy'sun was visibly peterbed by the men, which made things worse for the Twi'lek. As Axel picked up the cleaver and began threatening what would constitute a lobotomy for them both, Jingle's eyes widen with fear. Sweat now began to appear on his brow, but still he kept it to himself. The less said, the better, he reminded himself. Still, as loyal as he was to the man next to him and the Maffi, he would do what he had to to protect himself and his continued brain functionality. Axel looks over the crimson Twi'lek and gives a nod. "Your life then, is in my hands. I would be performing a mercy by killing you, Eson. I am not in a merciful mood. Instead," the man continues, a sinister look taking form on his face. "I prefer that you walk forever in shame. That every time you look in the mirror you will remember your actions. You took money for services not rendered." Axel turns back to Tyler. "I am sorry, but I think this is the wrong tool for the job. While definitely effective, I need something much more presice." He grins a bit and sets the cleaver down on the table it came from. "I do not wish to kill the man, I want something more." Axel chuckles and turns back to Tyy'sun. "I think taking your nose would suffice. It would, I think, teach a nice lesson." The Sevari smiles a bit more, wishing like hell he had a touch of spice just to kill that chill that was crawling up his spine. He had done many cold and callous things in his past. He had killed hundreds of thousands of innocents on Bothawui, though all was from the command cabin of a starship or the cockpit of a fighter. "Look at me you fool." Eson responds, "Pock marked shotgun scars fighting the Imperial enemy known as Lando Calrissian. A boiled gut from a point blank blast wound while I pistol whipped the Imperial Enemy of Talon Karrde in the streets of Nar Shadda. Blade scars from the sword of Imperial Enemy Barien Thrask. A plate on the back of my skull from a projectile bullet from a henchmen of the Jedi. If you think I have not paid in blood and flesh to secure a niche in this Galaxy by doing the bidding of those you now stand beside, you are mistaken. If you think I have not fought from the gutters to a place of fragile stability for my people in a Galaxy that would enslave them for their females you are misguided.. and even as my schutta of a mother was raped before me and murdered, and her tormentors carved their tribal signs on my very lekku, the never setting sun baked my stark white skin into a crimson hatred, chared and rough to the touch. If you think I am not reminded of the stench of life every time I look into a mirror, or that the darkside does not taunt me nightly for pretending to trust in dealings made under the table with the Sith, then you are blind. Look at yourself.. you pander to their promises of power as I have.. and you will likewise hang in chains, and dead or alive I shall laugh. There is nothing you can do short of killing me to teach your.." He spits on the ground in front of Axel Vichten.. "lesson.. and even if you sink your blade deep in my heart, Human - you only sign yourself over to the same fate. Becuase I know what you do not. You are not sensitive to the ebb and flow of the Force and you never shall be, and so you will always remain a thug and a pawn to the Sith - unworthy of apprenticship. Now be done with your words and have your flesh." With a wave of a dark gloved hand, dozens of bladed instruments of all shapes and sizes leap from the darkened recesses of the room, glinting in sinister perfection amid what little light glows in this room of pain and death, the items begin to form into a cyclone around the human, "You need a device more to your suiting, take one." The Sith stands back, his hands returning to their folded position across his chest, "Save us all your sob stories. Pity is one emotion that you are likely not to find aboard this vessel and in this room. " Grand Inquisitor Korolov begins to pace around the periphary, his senses expanding as emotion becomes visable, his dark grin lingering as he can feel the Rylothian's fear, " You should have learned long ago never to trust a Sith, Eson. Or perhaps you can trust that you will be betrayed when you enter into a pact with the the Sith, for your goals and ambitions are as meaningless to us as those of a common womp rat or the larvae that fester in piles of Ronto dung." The ebon eyed, ivory faced mask turns towards the human, "This should serve as a lesson to you as well, Vichten, continue to prove useful and you will be well compensated, become irrelevant and at best you will be left by the wayside, at worst...lets not dwell on that, shall we?" His gaze returns towards the red skinned Twi'lek, his voice growing deeper and much more sinister, " Go ahead, take your weapon and do it. I want to see blood." At that his hand drops to his waist, pushing aside the overcloak and revealing a sinister looking curved blade at his hip. "Or I shall..." As the tools begin flying around the room Jingle's nervousness comes to a head, and he dares to, for the first time in a long while, open his mouth. "Uh, hey, lets not get nasty right? There's no need to resort to cutting off anyones..parts," an appeasing smile comes onto his face, "I don't know what's been going on with all of you, but it seems this could be solved by me giving up a little piece of information Mr. Vichten wants, the code to the ship I sliced." Looking tentatively back to Tyy'sun, he gives an grin in the hopes he will take it the right way, "If I give it to you, will you let us go?" As long as he stayed useful, yeah... Ax took in every word the man said, though he knew the power that the man held. He knew the power Malign held, and he could feel it just by being in the room or in the same vicinity of the man. Axel wanted that power as well. No matter what Eson said about a lack of inner ability, Axel didn't care. He knew so little of the force or it's ways. He also smiled inwardly at being called a human. While half his blood was human, the other was that of his mother. Classified as a near human in the Imperial registry, Axel classified himself as Sevari, as his mother was. Axel selects a smaller version of the cleaver that was first presented to him. "I changed my mind again, old friend." he says to the crimson Twi'lek. "I want your thumbs. Both of them." He gives that cold smile and approaches a bit closer. "Hold his hands out," Axel says hoping one of the guards will listen. Axel then diverts a quick glance to Jingle, before returning it to Tyy'sun. "Tell your associate that I'll spare him the same fate as his master for the codes, but I do not speak for our hosts." Fear mixed with the mocking laughter of the darkside, churning with hatred ebbed and flowed through and around Eson. Haunting memories and fantasies of the future came in momentary visions withinthe minds eye.. Delede's finger being lopped off, and the honor with which the man stoically accepted the punishment.. the sheer willpower that must have taken. Malif's finger being lopped off, and the dishornorable way that one accepted his fate, fleeing to the shadows and abandoning the culture of the Maffi where he once embraced it.. and the fantasy of Axel's head impaled on a pike, similar to images of the enemies of the Hutts he has witnessed outside of Anchorhead durring his underworld youth on Tatooine. The crimson crimelord would not flinch at this, outwardly, until the blade struck home and lopped off his own thumb, and then the other. And as the objects twirl in the air around Axel by the force of Korolov's will, Eson knows trully that the power of the Sith is absolute - like that of Skywalker, or perhaps moreso - for within Skywalker there was never the dominating intent, or the brutal heart. With narrowed eyes boring plainly into Axel, Eson tells a silent tale of the contract he now signed with Eson - and it is a very personal one. None of those who left their mark on the crimelord have walked away unscathed. Lando has not been seen in nearly a year. Talon Karrde is likewise missing a leg and has not been heard from in months. Lyra is forsaken on the streets, unknown to the Galaxy. Ai'kani was blown out of an airlock into deepspace, along with her friends who dared oppose Eson openly. Kyyriwurr is dead. And how many untold aspiring underworlders who clashed with Eson's street dominance fell to his blasters? Axel would be no differant, if Tyy'sun had anything to say about it - and as much is characterized by the wordless gaze lain on the man now. Axel may take his thumbs, but Tyy'sun Eson has his own presence bourne of the darkside, which hues the air around him, squelched by the overwhelming power of Korolov and Malign, but there non the less.. The Sith's excitement is dashed upon the rocks, how disappointing that the choice to sever thumbs rather than something more useful. "I would have hoped for something more fitting,." He does not make any movement to over-rule, for it is not his justice to repay. As Axel takes one of the implements the rest fly away in the same manner they arrived. His left hand raises once and with a silent gesture the pair of Stormtroopers step forward, their intention to grab the crime lord's wrists if he does not submit immediately. He steps back, arms folding once more as he watches the ...handiwork of the half-breed. Jingle wasn't much peterbed by the human's threat, but the two dark figures in the background still irked him. He remembered the man's overeagerness to get into the ship the previous day, and he wondered if he could make that work to his advantage. "Wait, wait wait! You want this ship right? Is your thirst for venagance so strong that you would give it up? Thumbs are thumbs, but that is a mighty fine ship." The trademark smirk had returned to the Twi'lek's face. This was the kind of thing he was used to, playing to peoples big egos. He just hoped it worked. "If you cut of anything, I wont give you the code, and it will take you a very long time to get that ship of yours. It's obviously your decision, us being in the chains, but I would have thought your priorities would be a little different." Axel knew that doing anything more than getting them arrested has already put a price on his head. He still was not worried. He had evaded the best, including Boba Fett, and the Maffi weren't likely to come near the price the Republic had put on his head. Axel takes the blade, and presses it against the flesh of Tyy'sun's right thumb, scoring the skin and drawing the first sliver or blood. "This one is for Malif. I shall present it giftwrapped to the man personally." With that said, he applies as much pressure as he can, easily severing through the skin but stopping at the bone. This was much harder than the smuggler had anticipated. Pulling the blade away and bringing his arm into position for a swing, he stifles back a touch of nausea. Once again, the intense need for the spice was felt. He then brings the blade down, with as much force as he can, though barely enough to sever the bone and release the thumb from it's hold on the hand. It was definitely a bad choice of tool, Axel thought. "I need a bigger knife, or maybe some sheers." He was sweating and nauseous to say the least. "I hope you are watching," Axel says to Jingle, taking an opportunity to turn away for a moment. "Unless you give me the passcodes, you are next to lose digits, though I won't stop with just the thumbs. They'll go first of course. You say you won't give me the codes, but everyone has a point where they break. I know from experience." Ax had been tortured on more than one occassion, but it was one particular occassion where he finally passed the breaking point and spilled his gut. Axel then turns his attention back to Tyy'sun. "One more to go." He hesitates a good bit before proceeding. While he had never had a problem launching a torpedo at an enemy, or firing a blaster at them, this was very different. He had performed heinous acts before, but this was by far the most graphic and bloody. The time for not flinching is passed. Jingle's words are a heroic sacrifise, to say the least - but where the Imperials desire, they will have this day, even if that includes the passcodes to the ship. A part of Eson wishes Jingle had never mentioned the codes, as the interogation had conveniently left that detail out of the conversation until the Twi'lek had mentioned them. But he could not be faulted for utilizing what he has to better the situation for them both. As the blade begins its slow decent into Eson's hand, the crimelord tenses and his fury boils - the darkside culminates within his mind, an act not entirely of the being's direction, but rather almost as a random reaction to harm being pressed upon his person. The thumb and its tendon, flesh and bone are resistant, the Force pushing back against the sinking blade, and Eson groans - which grows into a shout - his energies focusing on keeping the impossible within sight: that of the blade held at bay.. but then in a moment of seeming triumph, Axel pulls it away, and all the strength and effort and energy is exhaled in the breath of a single sigh, and the crimelord is spent. His powers only go so far, untrained and unwise in the ways of the Force, Eson cannot hope to perform the miricles of trained and true veterans of power.. Axel's blade flies true, and the thumb is severed clean.. the pain rushes through Eson like a might wave of demons, hell bent on consuming him alive. How it is possible for a single area of his body, the size of his thumb, to overwhelm his entire essence in one proverbial exclamation the crimelord may never know - he is no doctor - he is only pain incarnate, and the scream that eminates from his throat is like that of the days when the tatooing needle pierced his pale lek in the caves of his youth - issued entirely without his consent. It is with a loathing hatred as theb urning does not subside that Eson looks opon Axel now, his visage a mask of contorted rage, blood flowing freely from the hand - and the small appendage laying on the floor in a pool of that flow. As Tyy'sun's thumb hit the floor a small wave of despair arose in Jingle. His ploy had failed, and Eson's thumbs would be cut off, likely along with his own. Jingle's mind began racing at a million miles a minute, trying to think of what he could do next to spare him from such a fate. He had professed that he wouldn't speak the codes if they were harmed, but already that had happened. His thumbs were part of his work and he wasn't sure if he would be able to stand the pain of losing them. But he was a Twi'lek of his word, he would keep his mouth shut and not give Axel the pleasure of the ship as well as his digits. Axel realizes that he doesn't really have the stomach for such cruelties, but he has dug a deep hole in the galaxy and not going through with his statements would be worse than going through with them. He takes a moment to gather his strength back by going to the table and selecting a more appropriate tool for the job. A vibro-knife seemed a better choice than the more surgical tools. He returns to Tyy'sun and raises the knife. "If you have any loyalty to your men, Eson, now would be the time. Your associate will suffer a worse fate than you. Tell him to release the codes and I can promise that no harm will come to him by my hands." With that part out of the way, Axel raises the vibro-knife up, much like the cleaver, ready to bring it down and sever the remaining thumb from it's hold on the hand. His lack of a meal is the only thing currently keeping him from throwing up, and it is apparent on his face he seems nauseous. Eson's pupils flutter upwards, deep into the lids above them, teh blue/grey intensity replaced by bloodshot white as the Twi'lek revels in the pain; swims in it. His mind reals with memories of his tormented childhood - and the Force mocks him in echoing laughter - the laughter of the Twi'lek exiles who acosted him in those times.. So much of the Twi'lek is defined by those brutes, that the laughter of the memories is mixed with reality, and Tyy'sun does not know the difference, believing it to be Korolov and Malign, Axel and Jingle's laughter within the chamber like interogation room. Blood continues to flow from his other thumb, and as Axel approaches with the new instrument of severence, something snaps within Eson. His head lolls and his pain fades, along with bits of his consciousness and in a sudden moment the pain subsides altogether, a numbness replacing the burning sensations. The eyes of Tyy'sun open, and smirk fades across his visage.. the rage is gone, pushed aside by an almost drunken stupor. The still chained hand, now thumbless and bleeding profusely, is flicked gruesomely at Axel, sending splats and cones of flowing blood onto the man. "All the day of lost and yonders." whispers Eson through his smile, "will follow you.." he almost sings the words, pushing his good hand submissively, or stubornly forward. "but dont let your deeds drive you bonkers." Eson whisper-sings as Axel prepares to do his dirty work once more.. the crimelord senses the man's distress at the task, continuing to flick as much of his own blood onto the man. "bring the knife home true... " Eson begins to laugh then, struggling in his bonds, hanging on the wall before continueing, "and fear, theres no need to wonder.. rest assured Im going to kill youuu." "Talk like that," Axel says before bringing the blade down in one quick motion, taking the thumb clean off at the joint above the palm. "Talk like that made me want to miss your hand and hit your heart. If it weren't for the presence of Darth Malign, and his orders to take a limb of choice, I would take your life instead. I am sparing you death." Axel was self-reasoning. Taking the thumbs was better than cold-blooded murder, right? Of course, Ax had committed murder on a grand scale, but those were strangers. They were nothing more than patches of fur on targetting scopes to him. The nausea was far from gone, so to relieve himself, Axel moves away from the bleeding twi'lek and to the 'fresh' one. "You have a chance to save yourself the humiliation of your boss. Tell me the codes, and be honest about them. I'll test them before you are released." Axel sighs a bit, as he wanders how he'll transport a severed thumb for delivery to Malif. The whole affair makes Jingle more than a little nauseous, and he wasn't sure he would have the same pain threshold as his superior. His grin reappears as Axel makes his way towards him, though more out of nervousness than anything else. "Say, maybe I was a little hasty before. What are codes to me compared to my precious little digits? Now, what was it.." Jingle takes a moment to look ponderous, and then smirks again, "Oh yeah, the code was ICAICC. Now, I'd rather you put that nasty looking instrument away, it makes me nervous." Axel looks to the man, no sign of happiness or sympathy is present. "If that's not the right code, I'll cut out your eyes. If you lie to me again, I cut off your hands." Axel tries to sound as threatening as possible in an attempt to intimidate the twi'lek. He then raises the blade to the slicer's cheek. "And don't think I haven't the stomach for this work. I can always drown the memory in a few vials of glitterstim afterwards." "Now why would I lie to you, at a time like this?" Jingle says lightly, the sly grin never leaving his face, even as the knife is pressed to his face. The worst was over, and the fear he had for the man was dulled to much the same as he had for any other petty idiot with a giant ego. Mind you they never actually had him chained to a wall. "I wouldn't doubt your iron guts of course, Mr. Vichten, a man like yourself. Not everyone can handle cutting up a manacled man." Silently he reprimanded himself for taking it a little too far. Jingle just hoped that he hadn't angered him so far as to do anything silly. Axel flicks the switch on the vibro-knife, letting it cut into the flesh of the cheek a little before pulling it away. "Don't mock me," Axel says and spits towards the man's face. "If the code doesn't work, I'll castrate you with that cleaver," he says as he gestures towards the first choice of tools handed to him. "I swear it upon Olum himself." Thumbs